


a sort of respite

by cloudsleeper



Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: Chapter 4 Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsleeper/pseuds/cloudsleeper
Summary: He hadn't been well during your last meeting-- the headaches, the fever-- and you cursed your soft heart for wondering if he was alright.
Relationships: Vexx Serif/Traveler
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	a sort of respite

You had volunteered the first time, after all.

"I'll bring him food," the words escape from your lips with a confidence that you don't particularly feel.

You were in the middle of a debriefing (which was taking place in the kitchen, when Bash had prompted that he'd just finished making a batch of cookies), and all faces turn to you, some bearing concern, others bearing amusement. You aren't a fan of how Damon has a smug smile on his frustratingly handsome countenance, and you try your utmost to suppress the flush rising to your cheeks and ears- going by how his smile widens even further as he looks at you, you are far from successful. You scowl at him, and he coughs, poorly hiding a laugh.

You feel a cool hand press gently over your own - it's Ryona.

"You're sure?" Her tone is calm, but you notice a hint of worry seeps through as her voice hitches at the end, just a little. You force a smile, grateful for her concern.

"I'll be fine. Vexx won't hurt me," you say. You hope. His name comes to your lips too easily, too comfortably. You'd always held his name close to your heart, even _before_ -

_"I wasn't your friend. Did you think I missed you, that I thought of you every day?" His derisive laugh, the scorn in his too-cold eyes when you had sought him out on Nos Vega had torn through your heart then, shredded it as easily as a dagger through paper._

You press your lips together, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts and unshed tears that seem to come all too easily nowadays.

"I'll be okay," you say again, but the words ring hollow even to yourself. But you aren't one to break your promises, and so you pick up the tray with resolve and head to the storage room where he's being kept. He hadn't been well during your last meeting-- the headaches, the fever-- and you cursed your soft heart for wondering if he was alright.

.................

You're standing in front of the storage unit, your heart pounding and your mouth dry despite the hot cocoa you'd drank not too long ago. You take a deep breath, knock once, twice, and enter -- the door slides closed behind you.

_"Go in by yourself? You'll be coming back in a bodybag," Damon had grit his teeth, any usual signs of levity gone and replaced with a sternness you wouldn't normally attribute to him. "He's Zovack's dog. He's dangerous."_

No going back.

Your eyes take a while to adjust; the ceiling light is a little dim. The only other source of light in the room comes from your own skin, a subtle, luminescent glow that casts a soft light over the harsh metal of the storage room, and over him.

So here you are, in the storage unit with a tray of foods (and two cookies) in your hand, nervously standing before your personal guard. Ex-personal guard, you correct yourself. He's sitting on one of the storage crates, hunched over (why is he hunched over, you wonder a little worriedly), with his forearms resting against his knees, hands braced together.

He makes no sign of acknowledgement that you had even entered. Part of you is grateful his face is hidden. You don't know how you could handle that gaze any more than you had already -- fathomless, cruel, and wholly _unfamiliar_.

You set the tray down, and - maybe you should say something, you tell yourself. But what _should_ you say? Your chest still is painfully tight as you mull over what words would be best.

"You never change, Princess." His voice, heart-wrenchingly soft, clears the heavy silence and interrupts your thoughts, and you force your eyes towards him.

You don't expect him to look the way he does now.

There's a subdued, almost wistful expression on his face, as he's looking at you - rather, your hands. You follow his glance down to where your fingers are subconsciously tugging at the seams of your sleeves. It's a habit you had developed as a child, one which your sister had always chided you for.

_"Don't pick at your clothes; they'll wrinkle," your sister scolded you lightly, and you swatted playfully at her. "I can't help it," you had protested. "I was nervous! Making public speeches is horrible. Don't make me do that again." With a sigh, your sister turned towards the guard beside you._

_"Lieutenant Serif," she'd said sternly, though her eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Keep an eye on my sister, would you?"_

_He'd dipped his head forward in acknowledgement, but not without a smile tugging at his own lips._

_"I always will."_

The memory sends a fresh wave of pain through you, and you drop your hands to your sides.  
His eyes, which were the softest of greens when watching you fiddle with your sleeves, sharpen once more, leaving impassivity in its wake.

"And? What do you want?" His tone is cold, his demeanor shifted. Too quickly. _Careful_ , something whispers in the back of your mind. _You need to be careful_.

In mere seconds, he had become a stranger to you yet again.

"Come to indulge in some conversation with your dearest guard?" He stands up, but it seems like this takes him some great effort, and you take a step backwards as he approaches, your back almost to the wall.

You're reminded of how much taller he is compared to you, too tall - he very nearly towers over you, and barely a few centimeters away; if you leaned forward and up even a little, you think, you would be able to--

He reaches out, and his knuckles brush ever so lightly, carefully, against your cheek; it burns your skin. You distantly wonder when he'd managed to untie his restraints, which, you notice, are nowhere to be found. His gaze is chilling, serious, searching. Looking for something, you realize.

You steel yourself, and open your mouth to respond.

He suddenly staggers, and you nearly collapse under the sudden shift in weight as he leans on you, then pulls away, his back hitting the wall and sliding down. He unceremoniously slumps over, breathing hard.

"Vexx?" Before your mind can even process your actions, you bend down, leaning forward, concerned, all wariness and self-consciousness forgotten. You brush back strands of red hair (part of you tries not to think about how soft his hair has always been) and your fingertips press against his forehead. His skin radiates with heat, nearly singeing your fingers.

He closes his eyes as if feeling relief with your touch, and leans into your hand, savoring the contact. You ignore the flutter in your chest, and reason that it's only because you, as most Tilaari, run cold by nature.

"You definitely have a fever," you mutter distractedly, more to yourself. "I'll get you some medicine. And blankets." It's not that you're running away, you tell yourself. You're just getting some help.

You make to stand up but there's suddenly a grip on your wrist, burning like a brand against your skin, and his eyes open, seeking yours. His gaze is unfocused, looking through you.

"Don't leave," he whispers a plea. He squeezes your wrist, not painfully so, but perhaps to emphasize his words. You feel tears well up, blurring your vision, as well as a surge of anger, loneliness. How dare he?

"You left me first," the words escape your lips before you can repress them, equally as quiet but laced with hurt. He stares at you, eyes widening. He's wearing that expression again-- as if he doesn't understand what you mean. You gently pry his fingers off your wrist, meeting little resistance.

You mumble something about getting Ryona, and nearly run out of the storage room. You can't bear to see his expression.

.................

"Well, that went better than expected," the assassin comments, and you glare at him.

"Damon," June's tone is scolding, and in response Damon throws his hands up in the air.

"What? She's not _dead_."

Ryona rolls her eyes. You had returned to the deck, maybe looking more than a little frazzled because Ryona had instantly strode over from where she was chatting with Aya, and now was checking you up and down for any injuries.

"I'm okay," you say. All things aside. "But I don't think Vexx is. He's burning up; I think he has a fever." The other members blink at you, then share a glance.

"We'll take a look at him," Ryona's voice is soothing, but she's frowning. "We might need to transfer him to another room, if that's the case. June, would you come with me?" It's clear she's not a fan of the prospect, but she puts a comforting hand on your shoulder before she and June stride off.

After a pause, Damon raises a brow.

"Don't think our captain will be happy with taking care of a stray dog," he says, but he himself seems a little entertained at the prospect. You watch as the assassin saunters over to where Calderon is studiously poring over one of the dashboards, and strikes up a conversation.

  
He returns a few minutes later with a new, self-satisfied smirk on his face, and behind him you observe that the captain looks both resigned, and like he's going to have an aneurysm at any moment.

"He agreed," Damon says.

.................

It turns out their newest addition does, in fact, have a fever. Some sort of bacterial infection, though according to Ryona it's most likely selectively contagious to Kitalphans. Without proper care, even to someone who was only half-Kitalphan, she emphasized, it could be lethal. Upon this new information, everyone turns worriedly to the pilot, who shrugs.

"No need to worry about me," Aya comments breezily. "I'll be here, keeping us safe as usual. Avoiding some black holes, meteors, the usual. Just adding one K'Merii to the list is seriously no problem."

You can't help but admire her personality; the expression on your face doesn't go unheeded, and she shoots you a thumbs up.

"So," Bash rubs his neck. "We're not just letting him wander free, right? If we're moving him to a different room, someone's gotta watch him to make sure there's no funny business."

You feel someone unceremoniously pushing you forward, and you stumble. Everyone turns to you.

"Uh," is all you can manage. You don't have to turn around to know who shoved you forward.

"If carrot head is comfortable with anyone, it's the princess here," the darned perpetrator says. "We've all got targets on our heads, but she'd be the last one he'd cross." He shoots you a wink. You're not so sure about that. You also don't know if you can face him again so soon, after booking it out of the storage room.

But as it stands, you're still the one with the most time on this ship.

Calderon gives a sigh, but he glances at you, doubtful. You're almost certain he's got a migraine, going by how his eyebrows are knit together and how he presses two fingers just above the bridge of his nose.

"Your thoughts?" He asks, and you bite your lip.

"Fine," you manage, thoughts racing. "Sign me up."

.................

"Here are cooling compresses," Ryona said as she handed you a package. "It would be best to change them every one to two hours as needed."

She puts a bottle in your other hand, and sighed. "I recommended some intravenous antibiotics, but he wouldn't let me near him with a needle. It would be best if you could give him these pills to swallow instead, with a glass of water. Two pills every six hours, for four days." She looks at you again, with concern.

"You're sure you're alright? I can ask June to help me, if you're not feeling up to this." Her voice trails off, as she peers into your face.

"If he's sleeping most of the time, I should be fine," you joke, trying to emulate Aya's carefree nature. She gives you an uncertain smile, and as you turn to leave, she puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Let me know if you need any help."

.................

To your utmost relief, Vexx is sleeping when you enter the room. The room was much like your own, with even less furnishings, if such a thing were possible. You reminded yourself to thank Bash once again for his drawings that now adorned the walls, and Ryona for the little plants you'd now set up beside your window.

Six hours in, the room remains silent, aside from the ventilation and the deep humming of the ship. Your arms are propped on the bed, you're getting used to changing the compresses, and admittedly, you're a bit sleepy yourself. You'd brought along a few books to read, courtesy of June.

You're just not entirely sure how to wake him up to take the pills Ryona had given you.

He's resting fitfully; you catch his eyes flickering open (does he see you?) -- flashes of bright forest green-- every now and then, but shortly after he goes back to sleep.

It's strangely soothing, you think to yourself, to find him asleep. There's a peaceful quality to his countenance that you'd rarely caught on his face, even before...even before you had lost everything. You watch him for a moment longer, memorizing the moment, storing it in your heart. Locking it up.

Six hours. You press your lips together, resolved. Time to wake him up.

"Vexx," you say. He continues to sleep, and you decide to reach out, albeit a little cautiously, to touch his arm. But contrary to your expectations, he stirs slowly, opening his eyes. He turns towards you, and gives you a soft smile that makes your chest ache.

"Princess," he murmurs in wonder, voice still low, a little raspy, weighted with sleep. "You came back." You swallow the lump in your throat, wondering if this is partly caused by delirium due to the fever.

"You need to take these pills." You change the subject, holding out two pills and a glass of water.

"Come to poison me?" He wonders, and laughs in a self-depreciating manner. "I wouldn't be surprised."

Anger flares up briefly. You hadn't expected thanks, but this?

"It's not-" you start, but pause when you look at his expression. You're not sure what to make of the guilt, the clarity of his eyes. He sits up, not without a great degree of effort, and takes the medicine and glass of water from your hands. His fingertips brush against your own, and it seems to linger for a moment longer before he pulls away.

To your surprise, he takes the medication without any further comments or questions, and you're relieved at how agreeable he is. He hardly even protests when you tell him to lay back down, and you even manage to place a new compress on his forehead.

"I don't understand you," he murmurs as you do so, more to himself. He's already drifting back to sleep, and you withhold a sigh. _I don't, either._

.................

You continue to watch over Vexx over the next four days, a somewhat reluctant guardian, and it's clear the fever is subsiding. He no longer needed any cold compresses, not to mention he'd been sleeping continuously through the night and the day. He slept a lot, to your relief.

But perhaps due to a mixture of your newfound responsibility, and your thoughts weighing upon your shoulders, you found it near on impossible to rest, yourself. You'd run into Bash in the hallway just a few hours ago, and his eyes had widened after he'd caught sight of you.

"Kid, when was the last time you'd gotten any decent sleep? Those are some serious dark circles you got there." He looks concerned, but you wave it away.

"I'll be fine," you say, mid-yawn. "I'm almost done. Then I'll swear I'll rest for _days_ afterwards." Bash makes a dubious noise, but grins as he affectionately ruffles your hair.

"You'd better. Otherwise, I'm telling Ryona," he warns, and a bubble of laughter rises to your throat as you swat away his hand playfully.

.................

Vexx is sleeping as usual. You watch the slow rise and fall of his breathing, as your elbows are propped on the edge of the bed. Something about this environment now, the quietness of it, makes you drowsy and at ease.

There's only one more dose of medicine left before you're finished; you place it on the bedside cabinet.

 _I need to give this to him in two hours,_ you note. You think it might not hurt to get some rest yourself.

In the back of your mind, something warns you to keep your guard up, stay alert -- but this thought is pushed back further as you try to withhold another yawn.

 _I can wake up before then,_ you tell yourself. Your eyelids are already heavy, and you rest your head on your crossed arms.

_He'll probably be asleep, anyways._

You fall asleep to the humming of the ship, and the sound of his even breathing.

.................

Shifting blankets.

You're still tired, and so you try to will yourself back to sleep with a frown. You hear someone breathe in sharply, then let out a laugh.

You think to yourself, rather sleepily, that it's a rather nice sort of laugh.

But it would be much appreciated if they'd be quiet so you could catch up on some sleep, and after mumbling something along those lines aloud, you shift your head in your arms which have gone a bit numb (you feel like you could rest better if you just moved them around a little bit).

There's a more smothered laugh this time, followed by a quiet, but amused apology.

"I'll let you sleep," the familiar voice continues, and you feel the sensation of fingers, slightly callused, gently combing through your hair.

The last thing you remember before falling back into a deeper sleep is the soft sensation of a kiss, feather-light, upon your forehead.

.................

"Kid, are you alright?" Bash bursts through the door with a loud slam, and you jump, stirring. "If he's done anything to -- uh."

"Wh-huh? What's going on?" You mumble; why had they all come into your room? You were catching up on sleep. You sit up, rubbing your eyes of dreams. There's a moment of silence which goes on for longer than expected, as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Well, can't say I expected this," you hear Damon comment wryly, somewhere behind him. You hear a cough. Is that Ryona?

"Hey, what's going on? Clear out, I want to see," you hear Aya protesting in the back. You blink.

You're...not in your room, you slowly realize, as a heat slowly creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks. There are no drawings from Bash on the wall, nor are there the tiny plant offshoots Ryona had given you to place upon your windowsill.

No, you're in the room where you've been for the last four days, but somehow you've made it to the bed, tucked in underneath layers of blankets and have apparently been sleeping for - you glance at the clock- you've been sleeping for _hours_.

You hadn't woken up in time, and suddenly panic strikes you. Where is he? Had he run off, escaped? You suddenly scan the small room.

All the team members are crowding the small doorway, but sitting by the bed, reading the book you had brought with you, is... _Vexx_. Relief floods you. The glass of water on the cabinet beside him is empty, and the remaining dose of medicine, you note, is nowhere to be seen.

"Morning, Princess." There's a brevity to his tone that you haven't heard in a long while. "Sleep well?"

You don't really process his words, instead choosing to stare at him. He looks...better, and your heart, despite itself, swells. Maybe there's something he sees in your expression, because there's a brief flicker of warmth in his eyes, before he turns to the captain, who looks like he's still experiencing an ever-worsening migraine.

"Guess I'll be heading back to the storage unit now," Vexx says offhandedly. "Brought my restraints with me and everything, like a proper hostage." Without prompting, he stands up with ease, and makes his way through the door, followed by a protesting Bash ("you can't just leave-").

Calderon looks at you, and puts his hand to his face, and his shoulders shake once - is he trying to suppress a laugh? You don't think your cheeks could burn any hotter. You see Aya and Damon grinning at you from behind him, while June and Ryona share expressions of concern and relief.

"Get some more rest, stowaway. We'll figure this out after you sleep," he says, no residual amusement in his tone, and you pull the blanket over your head, endlessly mortified.

It takes a while to drift off again.

And as you do so, a brief recollection comes back -- you press your fingers to your forehead, feeling the ghost of a kiss.


End file.
